


Satisfied

by Silversheath



Category: Love Live! School Idol Project
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Modern magic AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-05
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-05 03:13:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5359010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silversheath/pseuds/Silversheath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eli feels like she's doing relatively well for a recent graduate non-mage in a magical world - she's got a stable, white-collar job, a nice apartment, and a rescue cat that only attacks her sometimes. But of course the universe isn't about to let her be - a rapid chain of events leaves Eli with revenge magic, resurrection, sudden demonic powers, love, and not enough luck to go around.<br/>But don't worry. It's all on Nico's Snapchat story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

Eli’s finally able to catch a break just past noon. She meanders from her cubicle, rubbing at her wristwatch’s tight, silvery band, and makes her way to the break room, sliding cups and tupperware out of her way to her egg salad in the refrigerator. One of her coworkers, a nice Empath girl - a bit younger than Eli, not that she was _looking_ , exactly - has her laptop open and is playing 2048 while watching Lolcat videos, a sandwich at her mouth as she smiles. Eli pulls out her phone.

Several rings - a scuffling noise, and then: “YOU'VE REACHED THE PHONE OF THE UNIVERSE'S NUMBER 1 NECROMANCER, NICONICONII!!! IF YOU NICONICONEED TO RAISE SOME DEAD, LEAVE A MESSAGE AFTER THE NICONICOBEEP!” An annoying, high pitched tone. Eli resists the urge to smack her own forehead, clears her throat, and speaks quietly.

“Nico, you don’t have the rank nor the license to raise the dead properly. That makes it illegal. Stop saying your own name into the phone. Anyway, I’m calling because-” The line beeps again, cutting her off. Lame.

When Eli looks up again, her coworker flicks her eyes away in the exact moment, clearly concealing a half smile behind an overlarge bite of sandwich. Eli resigns herself to a silent lunch.

**

She’s logging back into her work account - Magic Containment and Supervision Unit passcodes are irritatingly complex; it takes her three tries to get past the wall of capital letters and numerals - when she gets a call back from Nico. She connects it to her Bluetooth.

“Ayase Eli speaking.”

“Yo, Eli, will you help me out tonight?”

“Why does this sound uncomfortably like a booty call?”

“Stop joking,” Nico snaps into the phone, and if Eli weren’t four years acquainted with her, she’d say it was true annoyance. “I just need someone to do the camera work.”

Eli has to stop herself from the obvious response: _kinky_ , and instead opens her assignment sheet on her laptop and drums her nails on the keyboard; one, two, three trills of short taps. “What for, Nico? You know I’m busy.”

“I’m finally doing it, Eli,” Nico says seriously. “I’m doing it... _for the Vine_.”

“I hate you, Nico,” Eli says, breezily, and taps through her tasks. Selecting one, she swiftly pulls up the eBay account and scrolls through potions for sale. All illegal - firebreathers, love potions, bombs - yes, this mage is not comporting himself according to alchemist law. She opens a new composition and begins drafting the confirmation to the Bureau that will strip him of his license..

“You know my old-ass neighbor,” Nico demands, which draws Eli’s attention back to the conversation at hand. “The one who invited us over one time and her hand, like, shook when she poured us lemonade? Because she was so old. Not like she was crying or anything.”

Eli stops typing long enough to laugh. “The one who told us we looked ‘okay’ together?”

“Yeahhh! She said we didn’t look like each other’s types. As if I’d be interested in some blonde model,” Nico sniffs.

“You flatter me.”

“Boo,” Nico says. “Anyway - she died.”

“Oh. OH. Oh no, you are not-”

“Sure am, Eli. I’m a necromancer, damn it, and I’m going to raise the dead... for the Vine. Plus I want to ask her if I can have some of her rose clippings from her garden. Nice flowers, those.”

Eli makes herself finish the licensure proposal before she puts her head in her hands, elbows scraping her desk. “Oh my God, Nico. Fine. Fine, I’ll be there. Say, 6 o’clock?”

“Make it 7,” Nico intones. “The witching hour calls...”

“Isn’t the witching hour midnight, Nico?” Eli asks, and she hears the weariness in her voice like the slow crumbling of concrete.

“Well, yes,” Nico hedges, “but the new episode of Top Chef is on at 6, plus I’ve gotta get up around seven the next morning to help out at the bakery.”

“How long do you think this is going to take?”

“Eli! Just come over and get ready to see something awesome and magical!”

“You have to pay for the pizza,” says Eli, and hangs up.

**

By the time she gets to the little house in the suburbs, the sun is on its way down, and Nico is setting up candles at critical points along an upsettingly rusty-colored pentagram spanning the backyard. “It’s not actually virgin blood,” she asserts carelessly. “There was a sale at the market on pig’s blood. It’ll work just fine.” Eli makes a point to step over the streaky lines, which as slowly browning as they dry. Ew. As she does, she catches a glimpse over the fence of the neighbor’s roses. They are quite fine.

Nico scrapes at the dirt in the center with an incense stick, squinting in the failing light at a crumbling tome in her hand. The cover looks uncomfortably like human skin. “I think this phrase has a hard a,” she says to herself. Eli busies herself downloading the Vine app.

“How was your TV show?” Eli wants to know, and Nico snorts while lighting candles.

“They don’t know the finer applications of garlic,” she says, dismissively. “Nothing like the joys of your train ride home, probably. Anyway... do you have a fire-protection charm on you?”

Eli pats her pockets, slightly too warm in her grey blazer. Her hair is sticking to her neck. She comes up with a luck amulet - still glowing a faint green; active, then - and several coins. “I’ve got one somewhere at my place.”

Still fiddling with the pentagram, Nico tosses a gilt pendant to Eli, who catches it one handed and tucks it into a pocket. “Why are you so athletic?” Eli barely hears Nico’s mutter. “So! Should we get this party rolling?”

“I’m still holding you to pizza as a reward for this.”

They take their places - Eli raising her phone, the yard illuminated by the solar-powered lights as the sun sets slowly behind them, and Nico standing just outside her diagram, book open wide across her work-rough palms. “Spirit that has crossed,” she begins. Eli zooms in, unsure of where to focus the camera.

Nico’s thin voice echoes over the grass, magically enhanced: “If you hear me, I request that you rise. If you-” The back of Eli’s neck is really sweaty; she’s so hot, what is going on? Her hands spasm, the feeling like a jolt of electricity through her nerves, and the phone drops. Nico turns, blinking, mouth still half-chanting, and Eli grabs at nothing, at the air, falling.

Her side is burning - Nico is beside her now, all questioning bright eyes and worry. Eli scrapes at the pockets of her blazer. Both the luck amulet and the fire protection pendant have melted, molten metallic substances searing through her clothes into her side like an oil spill - Nico gasps. “You’re being cursed, Eli. It’s melting your protective magic!”

“Call someone,” Eli rasps, and the heat is pressing into her throat now, crawling like flames through her skin. She props herself up by an elbow, aching, and Nico frantically rips at her own jacket, pulling out a pink phone with a neko case. Eli closes her eyes.

**

Nishikino Maki’s forehead is much too close when Eli wakes up. She gets an eyeful of the young lawyer’s teeth as Nico yells incoherently in the background. Something is wrong, really wrong - it’s in the way the darkness is so light; in the curl of Eli’s toes. There’s something odd with the way Eli is really craving a cheeseburger... or maybe a sushi platter. Dairy? She’s starving, God.

“What’s happening?”

Nico and Maki engage in a brief shoving war, shoulders and elbows in a wild collision as they swoop down to comfort Eli first. Their voices overlap.

“You’re _fine_ , I prom-”

“Jesus, Eli, you look like you went through-”

“Stop it Maki! She’s definit-”

“At least she’s _ali_ \- Oh my God, you are not going to put this on your Snap story-”

“SO!” Nico wins; Maki falls back. Eli take the proffered hand gingerly and sits up - it feels like she’s been run over by a lawnmower. Every joint and bone complains; a slow pounding ache to the beat of her pulse... her pulse. She has a pulse. She’s alive?

“What the hell happened to me?”

“Ummmm,” says Nico, wringing her hands. “So I don’t know how exactly to put this,”

“You were killed by an alchemist’s far-reaching curse,” says Maki matter-of-factly, shaking out Eli’s dusty blazer before handing it back. “Nico raised you immediately, something she is _not technically insured or licensed for.”_

“Oh my,” says Eli, who is distracted by the pounding pain in her body. It’s creeping forward, no, inward, localizing itself to her stomach... she’s so hungry. She stands. Maki and Nico both start at her smooth movements. “I know I just died, but do you have any snacks?”

**

“I panicked,” Nico tells the police, abashed. Eli leans against the wooden table in the Yazawa home, taking miniscule bites from the apple Nico’s thrust at her.

“I guess you’ll be asked to testify when the hunter mages get a hold of the alchemist who paid for the curse,” Maki says quietly as the police take pictures of the scene. Eli holds her apple awkwardly, wincing as the fruit goes down her throat. It’s so uncomfortable, like the sensation of biting into wet chalk.

“Makes sense. I just...” Eli feels indescribably lame, as though being revenge-murdered by an alchemist she’d recently stripped of his license is her fault. It’s not. She’s just embarrassed, and the police are here, and she’s still so hungry. Really, she just wants to go home to her cat and listen to some classical music.

“You were the victim in an attempted murder. Also, it’s probably within your rights to sue Nico for unauthorized use of magic on you, even if it was posthumous.”

“Maki! I’m not going to sue Nico. I’m lucky she was here, or I’d be gone forever.” Eli watches as the police wrap up their interview, shaking their heads. What happens now? Maki goes over to Nico and the police, acting as the family lawyer. Eli unlocks her phone and thumbs uselessly through the apps, unsure if she should approach the legal matters. Nico has her resurrection on her Snap story. Ah. Eli’s hair looks awful, even with that filter; blonde tendrils of it just slapped over her face like a wet rag. Well, she was dead at the time, so that’s okay. Probably.

“How are you feeling?” asks Nico meekly as the police depart. Maki spins a finger in her own hair, looking impatient.

Part of Eli wants to make a joke. Her brain says “Dead,” but what comes out of her mouth is “Hungry.”

**

“So,” says the doctor, long fingers prodding at Eli’s bare stomach, purportedly searching for bumps or bruises. “Your sense of hunger hasn’t abated for thirty-two hours, despite your above-average food intake levels?” Eli holds her breath, trying not to snicker. It tickles, those cold hands, and she curses Maki internally, that ever-practical lawyer-figure, for making her go to the clinic.

But something is wrong, something that manifests in Eli coughing back up whatever she eats, and the disturbing, constant gnaw of her stomach. “I’ve tried a bit of everything in my refrigerator,” she confesses as Dr. Sonoda allows her to roll her shirt back over her torso. “If I can get over the strange, powdery taste of whatever I’m eating, it just comes back.”

“You mean vomiting, correct?” asks Sonoda, scribbling with her back to Eli. Dr. Sonoda Umi has a purple pin with faint horizontal grey stripes stuck to her lab coat, just over the breast pocket - Eli wracks her brain for the significance of that particular marker.

“Right.”

“You’ve got a necromancer’s aura on you,” says the doctor, brushing back the flood of black hair so shiny it’s almost a raven-feather blue, “I can See it plainly from here, but I’m going to turn on a mage light and try to puzzle out exactly what kinds of magic you have on you, since what you’re describing doesn’t indicate any physical ailments, considering your peak condition. This might take a moment - do you want any water?”

“Ah, no thanks.” Eli watches as Sonoda smiles, then turns and bustles around the room, pulling out an intimidatingly large machine on wheels from behind a curtain, hitting buttons and continuously checking Eli’s chart.

She remembers what the pin colors mean. Sonoda has the Sight - not a prerequisite for mage medical professionals, but certainly an advantageous one. The mage light begins to buzz, a gentle drone of white noise like rapid rainfall. “Close your eyes,” says Sonoda softly, and as Eli does so a brackish red glow descends over the clinic room.

She’s not sure how long she sits in the light, but her head is starting to pound from exhaustion when Sonoda finally dims the brightness, and the red fades from Eli’s eyelids. She blinks out the greenish afterimages and finds her doctor very close to her.

“You’re a succubus,” Sonoda says clearly.

“ _What_?”

“Besides death magic, necromancer aura, exorcist aura, and the new succubus aura, your brief death gave you a magical cleanse. I couldn’t see any evidence of anti-illness spells or charms, though it says on your chart you’re up-to-date on your medications. You’ll probably need some vaccinations, and a follow-up with a DMS; a demonic magic specialist, to confirm your feeding schedule and sexual health following your transition into mage status.”

Sonoda is being remarkably calm - Eli is choking on her own spit. “I’m a succubus?”

Sonoda squints. “Let me call in your designated driver.”

**

Maki squints almost as hard as Dr. Sonoda when she hears the news, but she leafs through the _So Now You’re A Sexual Being (Literally)_ pamphlet with lightning-strike focus, eyes darting through the explanatory paragraphs and clearly-staged photos of other new-succubi smiling and laughing. Dr. Sonoda, experienced with delivering bad news, fetches them all some water, and they sit in a moment of silence.

Eli can’t believe being poorly-raised from the dead and developing demonic powers is common enough to warrant a pamphlet - Maki makes her read it anyway. Eli decides to dedicate herself to the section headed _When Your Life Is Suddenly All ‘Jennifer’s Body’._

“So,” says Maki slowly. “You can only gain sustenance from sexual energy now. We’ll have to... find you someone to... get some?” she suggests, awkwardly. Her hand is in her hair again, twirling fast.

“Um. Apparently.” Eli feels her entire self curling into a ball of mortification built of repulsion, apprehension, and the utter shame of admittance. “Except I’m a virgin.”

For the first time, Dr. Sonoda looks uncomfortable.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your favorite Influence Seer

Eli can hear Maki wince, even over the phone. “Maybe as a last resort only, Eli. Really, I care. I’m just not super comfortable with the idea of... you know.”

When Eli asks, Nico puts on a face that looks half nauseous, half mortally offended, placing a dainty palm onto her exposed neck dramatically. “Eli. I can’t _kiss_ you. Think of what that would do to my reputation!”

“Bolster it, probably,” says Eli, who is now cranky, hungry, _and_ slightly perturbed that neither of her closest friends will kiss her to save her life. “What does it have to do with your reputation? Why are you grabbing your throat like that? I’m not a vampire.”

Nico skips the topic, subtle like a train wreck and says, “How about we head to the Arts store? Maybe the necromancers at the counter have seen something like this before. We can ask about it.”

“Arts?”

“You know. Dark Arts. In the North Center?”

“What?” asks Eli, who is in the middle of downloading Tinder. “Why do I have to connect this to my Facebook account? Will it do things to my... wall?”

“God, you’re such a grandma,” says Nico. “The mall is a grade-A place to pick up guys, by the way.” She gives Eli an obnoxious, flirty wink with so much eyelash fluttering that Eli has to look away, suddenly concerned her own lashes are in danger.

“How would you know, Nico? You’re gay.”

“Yeah, well, you’re bi. And I’m pretty smart, Eli,” Nico sniffs, nose in the air. “Yo, on the last episode of-”

“When did you start wearing strawberry perfume?” Eli interrupts before Nico can really get rolling about the latest episode of 6Teen.

“I... don’t?”

“You smell like... sugar. Candy that’s been in storage too long?”

“Jesus, that’s descriptive,” says Nico, throwing on an insulted expression. “Faintly offensive, too?”

“Ah, sorry,” says Eli. But Nico _does_ smell of sugar, the scent cloying and sweet. Ignoring this, Eli stuffs her phone into her purse and pulls out a pack of mints. Despite the powdery taste, she places one on her tongue. Ugh. At least whoever she kisses will enjoy it.

Nico snatches one from the tin and snaps it up, smiling all the while. “Pretty girls at the mall, too.” She scrabbles in her pockets for something; comes up with the red-and-black mage pin that means _necromancer_ , and sticks it on her blouse, carefully aligning the corners to her square buttons.

**

“Maybe you’ll find someone here,” Nico says, hope in her small voice, and Eli, walking slower as she scrolls through Tinder matches, frowns at her phone. She knows Nico feels bad about the incorrect reanimation thing, and really wants it to work out.

“Me too,” Eli says, hoping Nico can hear her over the tantrum of a toddler by the entrance to a store. They pass by him as he shrieks, mouth wide. He smells a little like cake.

Another match glows over Eli’s screen. Are they supposed to go this fast? Her head hurts along with the complaining of her stomach, everything in her body a gross slick of pain. _Ugh_.

Shoppers bustle around them, and to calm herself, Eli takes to eyeing the mage pins they pass. Green cross on a white background - healer. A man with the Sight holds hands with an animal-speaker. A ward seller at a kiosk dangles portable charms at a mother and a little girl, who wears the blue pin of telekinesis. Eli finds herself giving the ward-maker a hard stare, just in case he’s not up to code, then shakes her head out experimentally, like a dog. Not on duty today.

Nico follows her gaze. “What are you doing?”

“Just staying in practice,” Eli explains, picking at her dress.

“Practice,” Nico snorts. She puts a hand on her forehead and squints into the crowds, so obviously scouting that Eli feels her toes curl in embarrassment. “That pin, right there. What’s that one?”

It only takes half a second. “Blue with red stripes in that pattern means healer that specializes in blood,” Eli says promptly.

“That one’s an exorcist; it looks like Maki’s pin.” Nico points out.

“Why are you pointing in public?”

“Okay, that one,” Nico, flicking a pigtail out of her eyes. Eli looks. The pin in question is a deep royal purple, edged in a startling shade of green. It’s attached to a woman in the kiosk across from the ward seller. She smiles when she sees Eli.

“Purple for seer,” Eli says automatically, but the green edging stumps her. When it’s clear there’s no response forthcoming, Nico claps in delight, the noise surprising a baby in a stroller passing in the opposite direction with an uncomfortably overpowering scent of peas.

“I got you, haha. You and Maki went to that fancy private school, and you can’t even remember all the mage style pins.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen that one before,” says Eli, ignoring the jab at her education. She had been an excellent student. Class president and everything. “It’s part of my job to know as many as possible - I’ve memorized dozens.”

Nico shrugs, unimpressed; bounces on her toes to see around the people crowded at another storefront, a tiny jumping bean. She waves a hand at Eli. “Read that sign for me, will you?”

Eli tilts her head, feeling her hair fall across her chin. “There’s a sale today in luck-charmed espresso shots.”

“Oh man! I have _got_ to get me one of those.”

“They don’t _work_ ,” Eli complains, half-caught in a sudden whirlwind of sugar scent as Nico flips her hair around. “Luck magic is highly regulated - these things are just _gimmicks_.”

“Eli, you huge fun-sponge. Hold on here for a second, okay? I’m sm- er, _strong_ enough to get to the front of that line.”

“Small enough?”

“Don’t follow me, you _titan_ ,” says Nico, and darts off. She’s back a half-second later. “You know what, I think I’ll get you one, too. Since you need to, you know. _Get lucky_.” She flounces off before Eli can groan.

Okay. Eli’s head is spinning; a hand to her forehead proves she’s not burning up in any way, but she’s never felt this awful. She staggers over to the indoor wishing fountain and drops in a few coins for luck, just on principle. Sitting on the edge of the water, she breathes deeply. It’s probably not normal to _taste_ all these things in the air; there’s so much, a maelstrom of people, noise, and scent. She listens to the fall of the water and tries to stay still.

Her phone buzzes. She’s got a message on Tinder from a girl she matched with. She thumbs eagerly at her screen, sees the opening line of the conversation, and promptly deletes the app.

This is not going well. She can’t troll at bars or play at hookups on apps, let alone actually approach a marriageable young woman _in person_. At this rate she’ll probably just starve, and die (again) in utter shame. There’s a brief moment where her mind graciously conjures an image of her, sprawled alone in the desert. There are buzzards. It is the end.

Keeping her looming failure in mind, she absently rolls through the latest Buzzfeed videos. _23 Incredibly Important Baby Animals Falling Down Slides. Putting Last Friday Night Back Together. How to Flirt in 5 Steps (For Awkward Potatoes)_. Excellent - a video practically tailor-made for her. Eli turns her phone sideways and tries to be patient as the public Wi-Fi filters in and out.

The fountain’s crescendo masks the soft footsteps, but the breathy strand of lilies in the air alerts Eli to an approach. “Hey,” says the unfamiliar woman, a big public smile on her soft face, but something like caution in her stance. Her hands clench. She’s wearing a lavender dress and belt, and her eyes are the exact shade of the edging on her purple pin - oh. The mystery mage from the stand. Eli finds her eyes skipping up and around, not sure of where to focus on. There’s... a lot to look at.

“May I help you?” Eli finds herself saying, and then immediately berates the peppy-waitress tone that somehow burbled from her mouth without consent. Does she sound like a penguin? What if this woman only wants to say hello?

“Oh, no,” says the woman casually. “You just looked like you weren’t feeling well, so...”

“Right,” Eli explains hurriedly. “I’ve been ill the last few days.” It doesn’t seem prudent to explain to a complete stranger the events of how she’s died, and what she’s _maybe_ going to have to do in order to not experience death a second time. Just the thought of mentioning it hurts her stomach, or maybe it’s her succubus magic whining.

“I see.” In the ensuing pause, the woman’s eyes dip to Eli’s phone. “Did you think that watching shitty Buzzfeed videos would improve the situation?”

_Okay, I failed to pause this_. Eli scrambles to hit the screen, does very poorly, and ends up jacking up the volume, right as the Buzzfeed actor hits the crowning line: “I’d love to get a bite of that.”

The words echo around the fountain, loud as the merry splashes of water, and also probably reverberate inside Eli’s crushed soul. She pauses the video, exits the app, and takes a deep breath of lily flavored air, reassuming her unruffled composure, mentally patting herself on the back for not chucking her phone to kingdom come. The woman has come a little closer, enough that Eli has to tilt her head up. “Hey, so.”

“Uh,” Eli manages, and then the stranger smirks.

“I’d _love_ to get me a bite of that.”

While Eli is dying \- well, wheezing and trying to stop all of the eye twitching that is happening - the mage backs up to an appropriate distance and sticks out a friendly hand, smiling with slightly crooked teeth. “My name is Toujou Nozomi. I work at that fortune-teller’s kiosk sometimes.” She nods in the general direction, and Eli makes herself breath again, then has to make herself stop inhaling greedily - Nozomi smells like flowers and _peaches_ , of all things, sweet and warm - long enough to pretend to look over at the stand. “It’s kind of a promotion for my occult shop.”

“I’m Ayase Eli.”

Eli allows her gaze to wander - Nozomi’s little grin is downright charming. Her dark hair, in double braids, is loose, with flyaways making their grand escapes. The sheer amount of _hair_ Nozomi must have when it’s properly down...

“So, fortune-telling,” comments Eli, redirecting herself to the conversation. “I see by your pin that you’re a seer of some sort?”

Nozomi helps herself to a seat on the fountain, close enough that Eli can take even deeper breaths of that incredibly conspicuous scent. “That’s right,” she says breezily, and dishes out a side-eyed glance that Eli isn’t quite sure how to interpret. “And I Saw that you’re actually about to faint.”

“Oh.” Good to know, probably. Eli wrings her hands together.

Nozomi shrugs, and the movement brings her nearer, somehow, their shoulders brushing. Eli’s panicking on the inside, but freezes, in case Nozomi is the kind that pounces at the first sign of movement. She’s being silly. “I’m the kind of seer that sees several possible futures, Eli.”

“Cool.” Eli slides the word out from between her nervous teeth.

“And I know it’s somehow of vital importance that I kiss you. Right now.” Nozomi’s hand comes up - her eyebrow rises, a silent _may I?_ and Eli nods, slowly. Nozomi cups Eli’s cheek, careful as handling a butterfly, then laughs. “I’m really sorry if I came off as too straightforward. I was just _really_ excited for the future where I get to kiss a beautiful girl.”

Oh holy _shit_. Eli, to her credit, does _not_ choke on air, and manages to stand through her rising dizziness. Nozomi supports her, and Eli finds herself leaning against this complete stranger who smells of spring and heat. Good, this is so _good_. She’s so aware of her mouth, her lips, and her skin where Nozomi has touched it. It feels like she’s leaping towards this.

She’s never jumped so fast in her life - she sits down at once, back on the fountain, pushing through the blatant hunger and trying to force herself to relax. It would be easier to stop her heart altogether - downright impossible - so she says, “Wow, okay, I’m... sorry. I would feel like I’m taking advantage of you. Of your kindness, to kiss this-” she stutters over a laugh. “I’m not thinking straight.”

“No” says Nozomi thoughtfully, “straight really isn’t in the equation here,” and it’s ridiculous enough for them to giggle together. “Look, if I’ve made you uncomfortable-”

“That’s not it,” says Eli. “You’re...” _Do not say intoxicating, do not say incredible,_ “Really, really nice. It’s just... I’ve got a condition.”

“Oh? A kissing condition? Is it contagious?” Eli blinks, and Nozomi continues, blithely, “I hope not, since we might still get to that particular future.”

“Really,” says Eli. Her body still sings with hunger. The reminder makes her stand again, and one of Nozomi’s arms comes around her waist.

**

“So, a succubus?” says Nozomi against Eli’s neck in a tone that is both skeptical and accepting.

“Virgin succubus,” Eli explains weakly. Nozomi’s hands pause.

“If you’re uncomfortable - I mean, consent is very-”

“It’s... will you just... kiss me for a while? It feels, I mean to say, not as classy as I’d like, but I’m feeling much, much better already.”

“Glad to be of assistance,” murmurs Nozomi, and slides down.

**

 

From: Nico -- 16:24  
Where the hell did u go?? shld i call the authorities?? omfg if you died AGAIN AYASE I S2G

 

From: Nico --16:25

IM SCREAMING!!!

 

To: Nico -- 16:28

I’m sorry. Relax. I was just... in the bathroom?

 

To: Nico -- 16:29

Okay, I really have to explain that one. Again, sorry. But I’ll meet you at the Arts store in 10

 

From: Nico -- 16:29

??????!?!!!!!!

 

To: Nico -- 16:31

I’ll meet you at the Arts store in... 15

 

From: Nico -- 16:32

Eli i literally hate you

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's happening

Nico rails so much about being “Heartlessly abandoned by one of my closest, important friends” that Eli heads over to Maki’s purely to humor her about sueing Nico for unauthorized necromancy.

“The young mistress isn’t at home,” the butler informs Eli smartly when she whacks the bulky dragon-head knocker on the door at the front of the Nishikino estates. He tries to shut the heavy doors in her face, but she slams a foot against his efforts and demands a more specific response. “She’s doing family business at a neighboring estate. I believe it is the Nanase family at this address... good day,” says the butler, handing her a hastily-scribbled note with a clearly crabby expression, and Eli has to get back into her taxi, fully intent on getting a reimbursement from her friend. She’s got  _ bills _ to pay.

The rolling, coiffed lands of the Nishikino drive eventually fade into a different, wilder country as the driver brings her to her destination. Eli tries to lean her head against the window, only to withdraw grumpily when the rough roads bounce her skull against the glass. Her phone buzzes. Nozomi has messaged her:  _ Good morning, Ayase Eli! how are you doing this fine day? :-) _

Despite herself, Eli feels dumb, a curious, prickling embarrassment settling around her cheeks and nose. Ugh.  _ Better since yesterday, thanks to you, I guess. What are you up to? _

“We’re here,” says the taxi driver. Eli almost drops her phone, then looks out the window. This isn’t normal.

Atop the mansion’s tiled roof, there’s a dragon with an auburn hide that gleams a stunning gold with the light of the sun, huge claws scoring at the tiles of the rooftop with awful grating diamond-on-metal screeches. Eli gets out of the car and pays the driver, checks to see she’s got the fancy expensive magical ward cards that her parents helped pay for after her “accident,” and walks right up to Maki, who’s standing huddled under a decorative tree not too far from the mansion, clearly fuming.

“Rin, I swear to God if you burn that mansion, you’re going to _ get it. _ Oh, hey Eli.”

Eli’s phone buzzes.  _ The usual - sitting around deciding fate. :-) Know any good books I could get a start on? I’m feeling like reading.  _ The dragon twists its elegant, long neck, beaming light flashing off its scales, and roars, shaking the trees. Eli snatches hold of Maki’s arm, and Maki actually growls and stamps her foot. There’s a pause, and then three shapes shoot out from behind the roof. They’re slim and winged; brownish creatures with the faces of women and the crude approximation of grins, and they swoop down onto the dragon with garish caws.

“RIN, damn it!” yells Maki as the dragon pulls its head back with a strange clicking sound. Eli feels like she should live-text this and send it to Nico, then remembers she’s avoiding her. The dragon releases a gargantuan plume of vermillion flame, looking incredibly iconic against the noon sky. The harpies fry instantly.

There’s a curious lull as the dragon laboriously shakes free its wings, sails catching the air, and it leaps off the roof, forcing its bulk into the sky. It circles the mansion twice, surprisingly graceful, before coming to a thundering landing some distance down the driveway. Maki, red to her ears, speed-walks toward it, and Eli hurries with.

“You might have gotten our asses sued,” Maki snaps, “The harpies weren’t part of the contract,” and the dragon peers at her with one big green eye and grins, teeth exposed. 

“They scared Hanayo, so there,” croaks Rin, shifting, and Eli blinks rapidly. Apparently dragons talk nowadays. What a world. Maki walks straight up to the beast, not a tinge of fear in her gait, and chops it unceremoniously on the head with the heel of her palm. With a swirling of flames, the dragon vanishes behind a layer of smoke, causing both Eli and Maki to cough. In a moment, the fumes clear, revealing an impish young woman in sweatpants. 

“Maki,” whines Rin. She’s a touch shorter than the exorcist, and leaps, clinging to Maki’s arm like a particularly capable monkey, continuing to complain. “Scales don’t shield  _ everything _ from pain, you know.”

“Geez,” mutters Maki. Eli clears her throat. “Right. Eli, this is Hoshizora Rin. She’s my bodyguard.”

“I can see how having a dragon guard could be effective,” says Eli, and nods in the general direction of the harpy remains, now awkward piles of ash on the manicured lawn.

“It was my parents’ request,” Maki says, slightly disdainful. “Rin, would you grab some samples of that ash? It’s useful enough for rituals.”

“Right on,” says Rin, and trots off, fumbling in her baggy pants pockets.

“So, how come I’ve never met your guard?” Eli says as they start toward Maki’s sleek car. Maki shrugs and pulls out a portfolio, making quick notes in it with neat strokes. 

“She’s on hire more to protect Nishikino interests and assets, not my body in particular.”

“Part dragons are rare,” Eli muses. 

“And expensive,” Maki adds, scribbling something in the margins of a paper. “But I suppose my pedigree is worth protecting.”   
  
“You’re already a law student,” Eli points out, and gets a big whiff of Maki’s thoroughly gingery scent, “and you’re a powerful exorcist and well on your way to joining the family firm. Besides that, your parents  _ care _ for you.”

“I know, I guess.” Maki puts away her portfolio. “Rin’s alright. She’s cheerful and kind to my betrothed, and she’s definitely smart and powerful.” She squints into the distance, where Rin is clearly dancing the Cat Daddy around the now-burning harpy ashes, apparently lost in glee. “And she’s got a way of looking at the world.”

“Certainly,” agrees Eli. “Wait, you’re  _ betrothed?” _

Maki goes an inexplicable shade of scarlet and whirls a strand of hair around a finger. “You could... meet her, if you wanted.”

Eli raises an eyebrow, slow as a sunrise. “Well, I’m here to see you for the day. I’m not going to sue Nico, and I’m not sure I could afford your prices anyway.”

“Yeah, okay,” Maki coughs. “We can also look through the family heirlooms, the old magic books, and see if there’s a way out of your particular mess.” She pauses, and blinks. “Are you hungry, now?”

“I’ll be fine until tonight,” Eli promises, thinking about the text she should probably answer, and Maki makes a face that suggests she doesn’t want to know.

**

“The grand room,” says Maki dispassionately, and waves a hand at the room that is probably twice as large as Eli’s shoebox apartment. Eli stops herself from gaping at the sheer amount of space available to an heiress, and focuses on the scents. Everything’s just a tad  _ sharper _ in the Nishikino mansion, nothing sweet and relaxing like... like Nozomi. Eli pulls out her phone. What has she read lately? Does she do anything interesting? Her mind is unfortunately blank.

Rin pads up behind them as they tour, curiously unobtrusive and polite. Maki doesn’t react, but Eli smiles mechanically. Rin grins the same grin as her dragon form, lips parted and the barest tips of canines flashing.

“Hanayo is in the library,” says Maki after a few floors of shocking grandeur. They reroute themselves across the sumptuous carpet, and Eli ends up behind Rin, who smells of charcoal and a little upsettingly, mutton. 

The library has shelves of books, gorgeous golden spines guaranteeing first-editions and rarity. There’s a slim woman paging mechanically through a foot-thick page-turner on a mahogany stand by the window. 

“Hanayooooo,” sings Rin, and flings herself past Maki to the other woman, who barely opens her arms fast enough to receive the cuddling dragon. Eli approaches more gradually, watching Hanayo smile with a light in her pale eyes. There’s a pin on her blouse, a strange metallic teal that glitters darkly, with brackish bars like a musical staff crossing the rectangular surface. 

“This is my, ah, betrothed,” Maki stammers, and  _ God _ is she awkward. Eli sticks out a hand, tasting an odd fishiness in the air, and smiles as real as she knows how. 

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Ayase Eli.”

“Koizumi Hanayo,” whispers the girl, and yes, Eli can remember the pin colors now. 

“A siren?” she asks, addressing everyone in the room with polite bemusement. 

“Hanayo is very special and rare,” prompts Rin. “As well as adorable and nice!”

“I’m a landwalker,” Hanayo explains haltingly. “Spelled when I was young, because the hunting restrictions weren’t solidified yet, and my parents were concerned the policies wouldn’t pass your government before the ocean expansion got to our province.”

“Ah,” says Eli, who hasn’t ever considered merfolk rights in her entire life. She feels herself shrinking with embarrassment.

“Her powers are incredible, though,” Rin intervenes again, ignoring Maki’s tight-lipped frown. “The only thing is that she didn’t get proper training with the sirens, so the Nishikino adopted her, because they’ve got the only existing literature on siren magic in the whole country!”

“And you’re engaged?” Eli asks. Hanayo is blushing. Maki is blushing to the tips of her ears, one hand twirling hair with intensifying speed. Rin is grinning. Maybe Eli shouldn’t have brought this up. Rin answers for the couple again.

“The Nishikinos want the siren power in the Nishiclan,” she says seriously, and Maki moves for another head chop, but the dragon is speedier in her human form, and dodges neatly, retreating into the maze of shelves with a smirk.

“I don’t,” Hanayo starts, right as Maki opens her mouth. Hanayo shuts up, and Maki stutters something, and then there’s an awkward silence as they glance at each other. Eli’s phone rings. It’s Nico.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Nozomi calls right after Eli has managed to close the line with Nico - “Eli, don’t you dare hang up on me, it’s _really important that you decide which nail polish is better-_ ” and Eli feels her heart speed up.

“Hey Eli,” says Nozomi in a movie-star blasé tone. Eli has to remove herself from the library and into the hall, knowing with chagrin there are probably at least two mages in the building with hearing sensitive enough to eavesdrop, even from a distance. She lowers her voice to respond.

“Hi. Nozomi.”  She coughs, but gracefully.

“I thought we could meet up sometime later this week,  maybe grab some dinner somewhere? There’s this little shop near my house that serves really good parfaits, mmm... I’m sorry,” Nozomi laughs, “I just didn’t want to ask you out over text, in case, well. Yes?”

“Right!” Eli blurts, and she figures her rising tone makes her squeak like a mouse on a sugar rush, but _too bad_. “Tomorrow I’ve got to go back to work, though you’d _think_ that dying got you more than an extra few days off.”

“Okay,” says Nozomi peaceably. “Tomorrow evening after your shift?”

“I’d probably have to,” Eli says, considering the low edge on her hunger is already making itself known, the slow curl in her torso like erosion. “I mean, yes. Yes, I’ll text you when I get off. Off of work!”

“Oh _my_ ,” drawls Nozomi, and Eli cannot believe she’s willing to die (again) due to this phone conversation.

“Eli!” shrieks Rin from inside the library, “Maki’s trying to _muzzle me_!” The thunderous smash of what is probably a cascade of collapsing shelves rips through the hallway.

“I haven’t done _ANYTHING_ ,” roars Maki’s voice. “Put down that bust, it was my great grandfather’s!” A high, sweet giggle that must be Hanayo slides over the draconic burst of snarls immediately following.

“I’ll talk to you later, Nozomi,” Eli says, hesitates, and then adds, “I can’t wait to see you.”

“I love talking to you,” says Nozomi serenely as more hollers emanate from the library, along with a distinct smell of sulphur and ash. “You’ll have to tell me about your favorite books tomorrow.”

Eli doesn’t feel embarrassed at how large her smile is, facing into the empty hallway. “Definitely.”

**

 

Her triumphant return to the white-collar world is less glamorous than expected - Eli’s supervisor makes her do a memory exercise (“Yes, I remember what to do in the case of tornados, fire, tsunami, and angry mage lockdowns. Yes, I _know_ to hit the blue button before the red button if there’s an attack that breaches the wards.”) before allowing her to access the records floor. Her neighbor in the cubicle directly across from her adjusts his ugly mustard-yellow pin on his polo shirt and smirks as she takes her seat. He’s probably still salty about her seven-time streak of Employee of the Month.

Eli dangles her toes on her swivel chair and turns in a quick, dizzying circle, looking around at her cubicle with new eyes. It’s pretty bare, with just a clover plant and a lucky cat off to the left, and a cat calendar, each day meticulously checked off in red pen. She should have a photo of Alisa in here, golden curls bouncing mid-step.

It reminds her she loves her little sister. Eli crackles her knuckles, one digit at a time, the sharp _snick_ of bone like smooth rocks. She’s back, she’s one of the best in the Department, and just because she died recently doesn’t mean she’s about to give into Mustard Mike over there. The little self-pep talk distills enough courage to reach over and boot up her desktop computer, which hums compliantly.

While she’s waiting, she opens a text from Nico sent while she was getting off the train - _hey Eli u huge loser, NishiKilljoy, the ginger, and I r headed to the research institute next to the museum past the financial district (in case u wanna come after work we might still be here lol). We’re looking into cures for made-succubi._

_I’ve got plans immediately after my shift, but I’ll call you later._

Eli spends most of an hour laboriously ripping through her inbox, efficiently replying and deleting. She gets up to get some water in the break room, where a younger colleague - a known Wiccan - is burning a sage candle and doing a peace mantra while eyeing a YouTube video of a land walking octopus. It is overall uncomfortable. Why is the octopus so squelchy?

“Ayase,” says the supervisor a little past noon, wagging a manila folder over the cubicle wall. Eli looks up from where she’d been validating licensure forms. “This is a new case that takes high priority - sales records from a home mage business coming out of 12th district that are clearly tampered with, considering consumer interest.”

“I love tax evaders,” Eli says automatically, hands poised on her keyboard like dancers waiting for a cue, and the supervisor laughs.

“Me too, Ayase. If you can get this one wrapped up ASAP, we’ll all get steak tonight.” He pauses. “That was a joke, Ayase, meals are never on the company.”

“Understood, sir,” she manages, but he’s gone already.

Okay, great. Good thing bureaucracy pays decently. _Full benefits,_ Eli reminds herself, and opens the folder.

She’s done specific cases like this before - her eyes dart past the basics of the business and get right to the statistics - gross and net and profits, Yen and numbers sliding easily through her brain, striking like wind chimes as she calculates and considers. Eli’s a woman of all work, and maybe if she uncovers fraud here, she’ll get a raise and be able to feed her cat high quality chicken bits.

Her phone buzzes. It’s Maki. _Why does Nico keep inserting weird puns into my name? She’s called me three different iterations in the last two hours, the worst being NishikiNoFun_

Eli’s mom has also texted. _Are your ward cards in your pocket today? Your father says Hi._

Nico has given some input as well: _this place is big and the archives are insaNE. i hope we find something soon. NishikiNoHelp just keeps talking to the secretary_. Eli has to roll her eyes at that, amusement bubbling into her throat enough that she laughs. And then coughs, feeling her entire body shake with the harsh rasp. Ugh, that’s painful. Is she doing worse? She’d better feed soon. Eli scratches at her tight ponytail, feeling like her entire face is being pulled back. Is that why she’s so sluggish, hungry, sore like her bones are bruised? Well, she died. Maybe she’s got an excuse these days.

But first... there’s a job at hand. With these numbers, the business is barely scraping by, hardly enough to draw federal attention. Eli puts down her phone and squints at the details in fine print. SPIRITUAL POWER, occult and craft shop for Wiccans and Seers, run by Toujou Nozomi.

Is Eli having a heart attack?

**

 

She takes her break when her cubicle neighbor sniffs haughtily and turns to say something, mouth already forming a rude comment, but she’s halfway down the hall in a moment, typing quickly on her phone, glad her nails don’t make obnoxious clicks.

She’s drafted the first few paragraphs of what is turning into a miniscule novel when the realization that she may be overreacting comes up. Objectively, she should not even be on the case if there’s a personal involvement. A calming breath, a quick run-through of a strength mantra (that can be activated as a strength-enhancing spell, if she had the orb with her), and she puts her phone in her pocket. _Do NOT text Nozomi immediately_ , she tells herself, and the little bit of self-control she has stands up straighter, a wall in her mind.

Why is Eli even invested in this? The only thing she can do is turn the case back to the supervisor, explaining her personal bias resulting in an inability to do the case, and watch her cubicle neighbor smirk with his nasty mustache. She opts to call Nico instead of emotionally process.

The phone rings twice, then goes straight to voicemail. “YOU'VE REACHED THE PHONE OF THE UNIVERSE'S NUMBER 1 NECROMANCER, NICONICONII!!! IF YOU NICONICONEED TO RAISE SOME DEA-” Eli disconnects before she has to listen to any more.

**

It’s getting closer and closer to the end of her shift. Eli swivels a little in her chair, hair down, and tries not to gnaw on the ends of her fingernails, sorting methodically through her feelings. Who is Nozomi, anyway? Some (beautiful, friendly) woman with (a great personality and long fingers) an infuriatingly teasing mien; Eli’s only _talked_ to her a few times at most (and made out in a public bathroom, _sheesh_ , that was a low point in the weekend), but why does it personally offend Eli that Nozomi’s running a crooked business? It’s not even _that_ crooked, technically speaking - the mage is only dodging a few thousand in taxes, and maybe moral code. But it’s not even that - Eli feels horribly guilty, somehow, like that time she was reading a weird, sad book that turned out to be Nico’s high school diary. Knowing that Nozomi’s got a sketchy background makes her feel like she’s been _prying_ , for crying out loud. But Eli needs Nozomi.

A phone call interrupts her musings. At the same moment, her entire lower body cramps in hunger; a reminder of exactly _why_ she needs Nozomi - Eli makes her thumb hit the Accept Call button through the sudden sensation of knives in her kidneys.

“Eli?” Maki says, and it sounds like the woman is yelling into the wind, an incredible wave of sound behind the voice.

“Hello,” Eli manages, and listens.

“We’ve got something. I’ve been pouring over books and manuscripts all day, and there’s something that can free succubi.”

“I’m listening,” says Eli, who is holding herself up by pressing her elbows into her desk and leaning as the hunger tears through her - it’s so _strong_ , it’s hail and pressure and the queer vulnerability of balancing on a rope over a canyon - buffeting dizziness. Eli has a sudden vision of herself falling into shark-infested waters, and has to brace herself with an arm across her stomach.

“Hanayo’s a siren, right? Her magic - along with all merfolk mages - is crazy potent. She has the juice behind her to seal evil, when chanting a certain spell. If I’ve done my research correctly, if she performs the Fifth Law exorcism with a removal clause targeted to necromancy, she can chase the demon magic out of you.”

Eli listens, heartbeat in her ears. Like the hunger pangs she got when she was human, this pain also fades, slow as ice melting, but cycling away nonetheless. It’s on its way out, but it’s never been so bad.

“Nico, however,” says Maki with a touch of derision, unaware of Eli’s situation, “has been ferreting out another solution. She went to her friends in the pharmacy business, and they apparently think they have a short-term ability to get you mage-altered hormonal doses, in case you wanted to keep out of any licentious activity.”

“What, like a vaccine?” asks Eli, who uncurls herself as the hunger finishes raging through her body. She’s still bruise-sore and aching like an elephant’s stepped on her; like she spent 6 hours dancing like she used to when she was a child. That pain had been much more satisfying - sore muscles of a day well spent, not this bone-wringing, retching mess.

Maki pauses, and there’s ferocious whispering in the background. “No,” Maki clarifies. “A pill. It will take the edge off of your situational pain, but not forever. You’ll develop tolerance to the spells after a month or so, but this gives us more time to find a permanent solution, maybe progress with Hanayo’s training for this kind of delicate spell. The pills, on the other hand, can be ready as soon as tomorrow.” A begrudging noise. “Nico’s got... some pull with a friend there, apparently.”

Eli pushes a hand through her sweaty hair - she’s still got to meet Nozomi tonight, illegal activities be damned, because she can’t take this hunger, and it’s going to get worse - and says, “Whatever it takes.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Honoka lmao

She almost misses her bus because she can’t decide what to wear. A dress? Probably. That’s more her style. Sky-blue, to bring out her eyes, or a light red, to show that she cares? Does she care? Nozomi probably doesn’t. This is...

God, why can’t she stop thinking?

Eli ends up outside the little sit-down restaurant nine minutes early, gripping her smooth silver clutch with talon-like hands and wishing she’d thought to bring a shawl. The slight evening breeze slips along her legs and collarbone like an inappropriate touch, and she has to berate herself for having her mind in the gutter. Then again, she’s _very_ hungry.

“Eli,” says Nozomi from behind her, and Eli doesn’t jump because she’s been taking in that potent wave of saccharine that is so distinctly Toujou Nozomi. When Eli turns, Nozomi flashes a slight smile, her full lips winking out a glimpse of very straight teeth. “Shall we?”

The place is homey enough with its open-atmosphere, Italian-impersonation style, but busy - Nozomi is fair and efficient, getting them a booth (“For two,” she says, and glances at Eli as if checking for something) sidestepping wait staff, scrambling children, and customers’ long legs; gliding like some sort of fairy into her side. She does this all without touching Eli once, not even an accidental brush of fingertips. Eli can’t decide if she’s relieved or disappointed, so she spends some time just watching Nozomi move.

“Can I start you off with something to drink?” asks the waiter, eyes focused very hard on Eli, and Nozomi frowns.

“I’m good with water for now,” Eli says, ignoring her immediate instinct, which is to ask wearily for the strongest thing they’ve got and pound it down without worrying about her lipstick coming off, or how fast it would come back up. She’s got something like a reputation to uphold, at least around Nozomi. Though it occurs to her they’ve not really talked about anything meaningful. At least, as meaningful as a conversation with a complete stranger could be, especially since their first encounter was so. Impersonal. Eli blushes and almost drops her menu, remembering, and the waiter clears his throat, inexplicably the same color of red.

“Lemonade?” asks Nozomi, polite as the day is long, and the waiter nods and departs rather wishfully.

“So,” begins Nozomi at soon as he’s danced off. “How was your day? Meet anyone new? Anything interesting?” She leans in, and despite herself, Eli moves her head closer as well, just in case. “Did you kiss any pretty girls?” Nozomi stage-whispers, too loud, and then snickers as Eli jumps like she’s been poked with a cattle prod. Sheesh.

“I met a dragon yesterday,” Eli says, oddly pleased that she’s got a pretty good response to at least one of Nozomi’s questions.

After they order, conversation moves in a curiously smooth way - Nozomi has a way of making everything Eli says sound entirely relevant, even entertaining. She sets up a path for the talk to flow, and doubles back and breaks free of her own steps if it seems like Eli is floundering, or if they move to something new. This is relieving. Eli finds it so easy to make small talk, and not in a getting-to-know-you way. It’s as if she doesn’t have to try too hard - she doesn’t have to pull out an icy facade, doesn’t have to seem aloof, or claw her way into a superior’s good graces. She finds herself settling into the banter with Nozomi - who has a biting, teasing wit, but she’s never outright distasteful. It’s confusing for Eli, who tries to reconcile the lawbreaking menace Nozomi-on-paper with the cheerful soul cramming breadsticks into her mouth right now.

The waiter comes back just as Eli is saying, “My mother’s family celebrates it, so yes, I have to excuse to shovel three pounds of chocolate rabbit into my mouth every year, but I only did it in public that one time when I was young, it’s not like it’s-”

Nozomi is laughing, huge ugly snort giggles that causes some neighboring tables to look about. The waiter tiptoes away, muttering that he’ll return. “ _Eli,_ ” Nozomi says, and after a beat, Eli has to join in the amusement too. They pause, catching their breath, and watch across the restaurant as a woman with a spelled purse upends an entire breadstick basket down the hatch. “Wonder how many she’s got in there,” Nozomi comments dispassionately as the ginger woman waves down her server, motioning for another. The woman’s table mate puts both hands in her hair and makes an expression of pure exasperation.

Eli is briefly distracted. “The requirements for casual magic items must have changed,” she observes. “Last I read, there was a restriction on Bags of Plenty, since a toddler shoved a cat into one last year, and the family spent sixteen hours wondering where the yowls were coming from.”

Nozomi grins, adorably, and almost swings her side braid into the soup that the waiter slides in front of her.  “You know a lot about mage laws, don’t you?”

“It’s my job,” says Eli, embarrassed now at her outburst, but Nozomi just tilts her head like a fascinated bird.

“What do you know about me?”

“You don’t like caramel,” Eli says at once, “and I can’t _believe_ it, it’s so good...”

“No, no,” Nozomi rolls her eyes in a manner that is somehow inspiringly kind. “About my mage type.”

“Ah,” says Eli, who will admit over her dead body that she went home and Googled the mage pin she’d seen (and removed, along with some clothes) from Nozomi’s person. “Probability Seer.”

“That’s me,” Nozomi replies charmingly, and dips into her soup, dainty hands twirling the spoon in movements that Eli’d call nervous in anyone else.

Eli, who hasn’t ordered an appetizer, or any food at all for that matter, watches Nozomi’s lips. The soup smells awful. “You can see probabilities for different futures.”

“Yep.” Nozomi slurps a little, then says, “Excuse me.”

“You can also _alter_ the chances of a future.”

“But not without consequence,” Nozomi says. Both of their gazes are drawn back to the woman with the magic purse - she’s got at least four orders of breadsticks in there, and the management seems to have caught on. The woman has tears in her eyes, but her friend with the sweet face is shaking her head.

“Consequences,” Eli says, sensing the conversation has gone, suddenly, very serious.

“Luck magic is hard to work with,” Nozomi admits. The waiter pops over, looking retrospectively annoyed with the breadsticks lady, and doesn’t even blush in Eli’s direction before plopping some barbeque on their table. Nozomi reaches for it gladly. “For instance. There’s a slim chance, something like, I don’t know, less than nine percent, that the waiter will ask for your number at the end of the meal.” Eli must make an expression like a startled rabbit, or a Jenna Marbles trademark face, because Nozomi throws back her head and laughs in such an open, honest humor that it again draws glances from around the restaurant.

“Eli. Eli. Okay, here’s how it works: say I ramp up my power and adjust it so he’s guaranteed to make a move - that uses luck. Some of my natural luck, I should say. According to natural law, the more I use of my luck, the more danger I’m in. The price always makes a return. It’s easier to just look at different futures and see what might happen rather than do something about it, or I’ll get hit by lightning or something. You see?”  
  
“Right,” says Eli. Her hunger pangs are coming back, bright sparks of ache in her body. She puts a hand to her forehead, feeling vague and feverish. Nozomi notices.

“Are you alright?”

“I need to,” Eli gets out, but Nozomi is remarkably quick on her feet. She raises her hand for the check.

**

The ride back to Eli’s apartment is bizarrely comfortable, given the unspoken promise of activities to come. Nozomi incorporates her charisma, taking the bulk of the conversation responsibility off of Eli, who is thankful. They amble up to Eli’s floor in near-silence, but not an uncomfortable one.

“This is Mugi,” Eli manages, waving at her dwarfish kitten that pads up immediately and rubs herself along Nozomi’s ankles. Eli quashes the irrational jealousy. _She’d_ like to be able to touch Nozomi casually like that, without worrying about illegal backgrounds or using somebody to stay alive, or even the unsure chemistry that she can feel in her bones like the sensation of a sustained shock.

“So, this is my place,” Eli says out loud, and waves an apologetic hand at the space as she turns on a light. “It’s small, uh, _very_ small, but I like it.”

“I like it though,” Nozomi says in wonder, turning in a circle while holding Mugi to her chest. Her eyes flick over to Eli, who pulls down the blinds and stands there, looking awkward. “I like _you_ , Eli,” she adds innocently.

It’s a disgustingly perfect segway into a kiss, which is a great segway into more kisses and gasping noises as they move together, until Mugi gets tired of them not paying attention to her and bites Nozomi’s shin.

“Right,” says Eli, who has been tantalized with Nozomi’s scent all evening but just got a taste of it (it’s a mix of peach and mint. She must have stuck in a Tic Tac or something after dinner) and can hardly bear waiting for more. Instead she pats at her dress straps, which have suspiciously traveled down her shoulders, leaving the bony edge bare. They sit on the cramped little sofa, and Nozomi uses her toe to push the low-slung coffee table another few inches back, so there’s room to stretch out. Eli forces herself not to scream when Nozomi helps herself to Eli’s lap space, slinging her legs over Eli’s with a mischievous sort of smile.

There’s a whole lot of _leg_ in Eli’s bubble, but she doesn’t have too much time to consider how (wow, smooth? Solid? Warm?) it feels against her own because Nozomi leans in, gentle as snowfall, and kisses Eli.

It’s not the same as the ( _hungry_ ) kisses before. It’s slow and doesn’t feel like it’s necessarily leading up to something, but there’s an intangible sweetness to the pressure that starts in Eli’s chest and warms her face as Nozomi holds her. She decides she likes it as Nozomi’s mouth moves gently against hers, quiet shapes taking place as they end up smiling into each other.

This has never happened before. It makes Eli’s heart ache. (Great. Another thing that hurts, considering the lowkey pain she’s constantly in when she hasn’t fed, the dizziness, the cramps and discomfort with never having had sex before and now she has to get busy to stay _alive-)_ Eli has to concentrate on holding back sudden tears of frustration, and Nozomi notices and pulls back a little to see what’s happening.

“Are you okay?”  
  
“Yeah,” Eli lies. She wants to do this like a normal girl, something proper, rather than feel like she’s using Toujou Nozomi and her long fingers with the careful touch.

“Are you really okay?” Nozomi looks curious, but genuinely concerned, her eyes framed by those soft lashes that contribute to the overall image of worry, perfect as a girl in a story.

“I wish I could kiss you,” says Eli helplessly. Nozomi obliges with the same easy touch as before, her breath like mint, her scent like flowers and sweetness, and Eli is so frustrated when Mugi jumps up and worms herself between them, complaining.

They’re pulled apart by the obnoxious ringing of the landline. Eli doesn’t make it over to the kitchenette in time, so she checks her cell phone on the way back to the living room, where Nozomi fiddles with her hair while Mugi leaps for the ends.

From: Maki -- 21:04  
Eli, we need to talk. Why aren’t you answering your phone?

“I might... need to take this,” Eli says, embarrassed at the overall timing of her life, probably.

To: Maki -- 21:07  
What’s going on?

From: Maki -- 21:07  
I think you should open Skype so we can talk to you all at once.

If that’s not intimidating. “Take your time,” says Nozomi pleasantly, and runs her hands through Eli’s hair, along the skin at the back of the neck, which tingles at her touch. Oh man. Eli sits down at her laptop and angles the screen away from Nozomi on the couch. She doesn’t bother with headphones, feeling recklessly trusting.

**  
  
Maki calls her right away, with Rin and Hanayo in the background. Eli’s eyes focus on how Hanayo is touching Maki’s shoulder, how the siren leans into her back. How comfortable they look with each other, even as Rin practically bowls them over with an arm slung lazily across both women’s backs, grinning that feral little grin.

Eli realizes she’s jealous at how easy their love is - and they’re in love, have they noticed how they watch each other with eager feelings under the graceful dance of avoidance? - and struggles not to show her gloom. Good thing she can’t afford a top-quality webcam.

“There’s a very good chance the Hanayo solution will actually, um, kill you,” Maki says, not even looking into the webcam, and winces, once hand moving fast in her bright hair. Eli is drawn from her bitterness with another realization - Maki cares about her, too. She’ll never say it out loud; she’ll never acquiesce to anything amounting to love, but it’s there, solid as a boulder. Eli was Maki’s first real friend back at school, and here they are now, calmly discussing Eli’s second death, and Maki visibly swallows back her fear.

“How good is this chance?”

It’s Hanayo who answers, eyes queerly shiny and flat in the reflection of the screen. “Maybe 50%. Maybe higher.”

“Your body is deteriorating, Eli. Succubus powers granted like this, as the result of a botched necromancy ritual... they’re eating your nerves. The pills won’t help long-term.”

“I have been feeling dizzy even after feeding,” Eli admits. She feels dizzy now, like her mind is being swept out to sea in a thunderstorm - jerking waves and harsh forces on her poor, abused psyche. She’s dead, and now she’s dying. Nozomi, silent in the background, slides up behind Eli. She can see the Influence Seer in her version of herself onscreen - Eli, pale and sick-looking, and Nozomi, dazzlingly enchanting and lovely.

“I know someone who can guarantee the 100% success,” says Nozomi quietly.


	6. Chapter 6

The next morning, Eli calls in to take the day off, figuring that if she dies for real she won’t have to work anyway. She’s nothing but a top-notch employee; her boss can handle twelve hours without her. 

“But can the magical world handle it?” asks Nozomi dramatically from where she’s draped over the bed diagonally, looking obnoxiously attractive in one of Eli’s faded old t-shirts, hair streaming down her shoulders and pooling smoothly. Eli’s top is a little tight on Nozomi. Eli puts down her phone and takes a deep breath, trusting herself not to scream. The scent of Nozomi hits her instead - overall, not a great plan. 

The comment reminds her of something - she scratches her nose to conceal her expression as she moves back to the bed. Nozomi scoots over willingly enough, but displays a sharky grin that suggests she’s up to something; all teeth. Somehow Eli ends up with her thigh against Nozomi’s long back - not quite skin to skin, but enough that the warmth between them sparks up, seeming just a little too inappropriate for seven thirty in the morning as they both pretend not to notice. 

Nothing _happened_ last night, anyway. Eli gets to reflect on how strange yet blissful it was to sleep next to someone - a beautiful, _caring_ , maybe crazy woman with such a penchant for cuddling like some sort of octopus, limbs _everywhere_ \- even if Nozomi stole all the blankets and twined her legs into Eli’s in a complicated braid, it was... good. It was sour heat in the night and morning breath and sleepy muttered demands for the comforter; waking up holding hands. They should probably talk. 

Eli finds herself gazing out the small apartment window, taking in the Eastern sunrise. It’s a dazzling orange and rose mosaic - a blushing sky. It’s a striking picture. It reminds her that she might die today, a real death, with no takebacks. If she doesn’t, Nozomi might face reprisals. 

Eli stretches her hand out and runs fingertips down Nozomi’s back, tracing the spine, feeling the soft give of skin and the shifting muscles as Nozomi tenses and relaxes as Eli's fingers move down. She feels so nice. 

“Do you want me to give you a back rub?” she asks impulsively. 

Nozomi twists around and squints, eyelashes fluttering. “Is that an excuse to get my shirt off, Ayase Eli?” 

“Never,” says Eli immediately, and has the reward of Nozomi blinking, almost looking offended. “Do you want to- to talk?” 

Nozomi rolls over, hands at the edge of the bed as she stretches like cat, elegant wrists and coiled fingers, expression hidden. Eli curls herself up in the edges of the comforter and reviews her various aches and pains - dizzy, tired, sore, headache. 

“Sure, Eli,” says Nozomi sweetly and reaches for Eli so their hands are wrapped together in a picture-perfect Hallmark pose, and gives them a quick kiss on the knuckles, as if the movement could get any cuter. “What were you thinking?” 

“Tell me about you,” Eli says. Nozomi shrugs. 

“There’s not much to say, honestly. I like magic, naps... uh, pretty girls.” She swoops in, but Eli jerks back. 

“No charming your way out of this one,” Eli reprimands, and pulls herself free enough to rap her gently with her fingertips. 

Nozomi groans and throws herself across Eli’s knees. “ _Pleeeease_ ,” she complains, but perks up once Eli strokes her back with both hands. “Nice.” 

They’re silent for long enough that Mugi enters the bedroom and climbs up, whining. Eli moves her attention to the cat, which makes Nozomi whine back, and so she somehow ends up with one hand reserved for the mage and the other for the cat. They’re both purring. 

Nozomi, still thrown crosswise along the bed, catches a photograph on the bedside and lifts it towards her face for inspection, gaze moving down mechanically. “This looks like you. Do you dance?” She turns the frame so Eli can see - a little blonde girl caught in the beam of a stage light, puffy ice-blue tutu flared around her midriff, leg raised and hand high, like it’s scraping the ceiling of the world. It’s a frozen perfection. 

“Yeah,” says Eli. “Yeah, that was me.” Her cell phone buzzes, and Nozomi and Mugi jump. It’s a text from Nico. 

_We still doing this today?_ Eli tightens her grip, plastic edges of her Neko Atsume casing digging into her fingers, imprints of corners in her skin like the pockmarks of teeth. Right. 

** 

“Nishikino Estates, please,” Eli says to the driver, who blinks in confusion. 

“Those are private lands, miss,” he says, but when Eli takes a moment to steel herself to argue, he shrugs and waves her in, redirecting his attention to his GPS and headpiece. Nozomi climbs in beside Eli, sitting maybe a titch too close and becoming increasingly distracting as Eli tries to buckle her seatbelt without putting an elbow in her face. 

“We’re going to private lands?” asks Nozomi. 

“Yes,” says Eli, and continues to struggle until Nozomi’s deft hands slide past hers and fix the mess she’s made. “Um. Thanks. Maki thinks her estate will be perfect for this kind of ancient magic, because it’s stood at the site of an old sacred circle for uncountable years. It’s also a good place for Hanayo, since she’s... understandably nervous.”  
  
“A comfortable spot,” says Nozomi, and smiles at Eli with the corner of her mouth. 

They make most of the drive in silence - the driver has heavy metal coming out from the earpiece; bobbing his head along cheerfully as they weave through traffic, which eventually gives way to the groomed lands of the private plots outside the urban areas. Eli watches billboards with good-weather runes carved into the sides, advertising new drinks and young potion masters and the latest idol group to hit the top of the charts, A-Rise, who boast an enchantress, animal-speaker, and some girl who just looks like a princess, tiara and all. 

“You like idols?” asks Nozomi, nodding at the billboard as they sweep by. 

Eli bites her lip, then upon seeing Nozomi clip the royal purple pin to her chest, decides _what the hell_ , and says, “Amateurs.” 

Nozomi raises one eyebrow, and Eli starts again with a question she’s had burning at the edges of her lips - “Nozomi, are you...” She has to pause and rephrase it, words whirling around her aching mind like autumn leaves. She sends arrows through them, to pin them down. She reminds herself this might be one of the last questions she can ask. “Are you using magic on your home business?” 

“It’s a magic shop,” says Nozomi, obviously confused. 

“No. Are you faking records on your income reports?” asks Eli. This makes Nozomi adopt a face presumably meant to be tragic and beautiful, but for some reason just comes off as vaguely funny, like those videos Eli records on her phone but will never talk about, where Mugi pounces for a string but crashes headlong into a desk. 

“I am a perfectly responsible adult who would never commit such a petty crime,” says Nozomi when she sees her puppy face isn’t cracking Eli’s stare down. “I’m innocent. Just guilty of reading my cards right.” 

Eli can’t stop herself. “That sounds fake, but okay.” Nozomi kisses her, and the heavy metal music pumping from the front seat gets a little louder. 

** 

They gather in the parlor of the Nishikino mansion, the scent of cinnamon heavy. When Eli and Nozomi walk in holding hands, nobody says anything, though Rin’s eyes get very wide right before Maki’s palm comes up, threatening with a preemptive head-chop. 

“Well,” says Maki, who stands straight in her professional suit, eyes clear but for the slightest crease around the tips. She’s not old yet, Eli knows, but there’s something to be said for the stress of an entire legacy on your shoulders, and today Maki might be instrumental in killing her best friend. “I’m going to start up a containment unit. This should only take a few minutes.” 

While Maki draws a stick of chalk from her pocket (it’s a comic-book radioactive green, throwing shards of sickeningly emerald light like fractured crystal), Nico creeps over to Eli. Nozomi tactfully steps away to speak with Rin and Hanayo, the former who jumps forward and sniffs enthusiastically all over the mage, and the latter who smiles weakly and roots in the pockets of her floral dress for a handkerchief. 

“Eli,” mutters Nico. “Ayase. Look. I’m... I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have been playing around with illegal necromancy in the first place.” 

“I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t,” says Eli. She can see the effort it’s taking for Nico not to cry, the curl of her lip over the tip of her teeth in the flickering green light. 

“Fine! Well, I’m also sorry I didn’t raise you right. If only Maki and her professional mages were there, you’d be alive. For real.” Bitterness swallows the end of her sentence like a dip in acid. 

“Nico, you were there, and you brought me back. I’m grateful, honestly, and I forgive you. It’s... it’s been a wild ride to get here, but I don’t think I’ll die today.” Nozomi smiles at Eli; waves from across the room with a sinful unperturbed twitch of the wrist. “At least I got to meet some interesting people.” 

Nico buries her face into Eli’s chest. “I love you, Eli,” she squeezes out, “Please don’t die, you absolute loser.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

Nozomi trots up, stepping with light, careful steps like she’s 3D Minesweeping, but Nico disengages and sniffs in an entirely unconvincing haughty manner that does nothing to conceal the teary eyes. “Didn’t I tell you not to worry so much?” She flounces off to join Maki, and says in a carrying voice, “Arc the sigil here for more diffused conduction?” 

Maki says something in a low, snapping tone, then Nico grabs the chalk and does it herself. The light flashes a sudden, paler green, like new grass roots in the spring, and then shines a brighter, deeper emerald. Maki, looking surprised, pats Nico on the back. 

“This is all pretty serious,” says Nozomi quietly, and Eli turns to see Nozomi watching her, maybe a little sadly. 

“It shouldn’t be,” says Eli wistfully, running the material of her dress through her fingers. “This was all a big mistake, really. I wish everything weren’t a fuss; it feels like I caused it. Like it’s my fault.” Rin causes a slight disruption in the parlor by breathing fire on the chalk markings on the ground; the heat races through the room like a living thing, scraping Eli’s face raw and suddenly making her sweaty. The chalk design on the floor glows a clean white, glittering like ground diamonds. Nozomi pushes a strand of hair out of Eli’s eyes, touch like cool water. 

“I know we haven’t known each other very long, but I’m happy to make a fuss over you. You... you’ve made me feel less lonely, though it’s only been a chunk of days.” 

Eli takes the proverbial leap this time - she takes Nozomi’s hand and feels exquisitely right in this moment. “I’ll admit that my life has been pretty standard up to this point - as far as standard a non-mage post-grad can live - but all things considered, it’s been good to meet you. Great, even. And,” she takes a breath, “I feel so grounded with you. I want to make you feel less lonely. I want you to be happy.” She’s interrupted briefly by a quick kiss, but continues, “and that’s why I don’t want you to use your luck. I’ll be fine.” 

“Geez,” mutters Nozomi. “Let a girl do something for you, huh?” 

“Eli,” says Maki, and they both turn to see Hanayo, Rin, Nico, and Maki standing over by the white sigil, politely not staring intensely at them in their bubble of sudden feeling. “I think we’re ready.” 

“Stand back Rin, Nozomi,” Nico warns, and it would sound and look more impressive and imperious if she weren’t wiping at her smudged eyeliner with what is clearly Hanayo’s stolen handkerchief. 

“You’re sure you want to do this?” Rin asks worriedly as Maki positions Eli to stand on a certain intersection of swirled diamond lines. Eli nods, the familiar hunger yawning inside her again, accompanied by dizziness. Time to wrap this up - she probably won’t be able to stand, soon. 

Maki steps back, producing a heavy gilt goblet from a Bag of Plenty at her waist. “I’ve already cleared the paperwork on this spell, by the way. It’s fully legal to attempt arcane siren magic on this land for-” she checks her shiny watch, “the next four hours.” Nico bites her nails, handkerchief balled in her fist, combat boot tapping the floor like the world’s worst metronome. Rin comes forward and starts breathing fire into the goblet, the flames blue-hot and enchantingly bright. 

“Hanayo,” says Maki, and the siren comes forward, clutching a piece of paper in her hand. There’s a pause. Eli, feeling her palms get sweatier by the second, moves her gaze from Nozomi, who has her eyes closed, to Hanayo, whose hands are trembling, hard, like the surface of a lake broken by a barrage of stones. 

Maki moves, takes Hanayo’s hands in her own with a curious tenderness. “It will be okay. I’m here, okay?” Hanayo nods, but now her whole small frame is shaking. 

“Maki,” she says slowly, “I’m afraid, you know? My powers are hardly in control, I’m just in training, and they’re _deadly_ ,” and then Maki hugs Hanayo, tight and perfectly like a ring sliding onto a finger. 

“You can do it. Hanayo, listen. I... really love your voice,” Maki’s tone dips lower, “Let me hear it.” 

“Okay.” They move apart, suddenly conscious of their bubble. A sharp light appears in Hanayo’s eyes as she shakes out her paper - maybe it’s confidence - and then she opens her mouth and time seems to stop. 

** 

There are sounds - Eli’s not sure what’s happening, but her feet react before her mind does and she tries to move towards Hanayo, towards that sonic music that is inside her bones and fills even her hungry stomach with the craving of sound - but the chalk seems to freeze her body, locking her in place. She’s aware of Nico fainting, outside of the sounds and the light that is now flashing up (is that _her_ , dazzling like a strobe light?), Rin, with her winged shadow, clearly woozy - Nozomi’s eyes are glowing a peculiar green, and then her skin is in _fire_ , something is _ripping its way out of her body_ , what is this some sort of _Alien_ shit? All this sound and the nails tearing apart her joints and _horrid popping bones_ and incredible pain, overall, not quite fire, really (she burned her hand once on the stove as a child) but acid, dissolving her skin - 

The blackout is the best thing that has ever happened to her. 

** 

Her eyes open in a guest bedroom - she knows it’s the Nishikino mansion, still, because the exorcist crest is carved into the foot and headboard of the sumptuous double bed. Her mouth feels disgusting, something like day-old chocolate and the sour feeling of not having brushed her teeth - and Nico’s face dips into her view like a photobomb. 

“Yes! Eli!” Relief and fear, maybe, clashing and fraying together in Nico’s voice like a poorly-done braid.

“Nico,” Eli says, and it sounds like she chain smokes or maybe vapes 24/7 with the way her voice slides out of commission at once, breaking like the crumpled glass plate of her heart. “Where’s...”

“Hanayo blacked out with you,” says Nico, mercilessly rapid-fire, but Eli is grateful because the words force her to comprehend - “and Maki and Rin are at the hospital."

“I, what?”

“Rin and Nozomi carried you up here, because it was obvious you were cured when all this black shadow stuff came out your skin and boiled up on the sigil,” says Nico, starting to slow. “It looked like tar, or thick ink. But Nozomi, uh, fell. Down the stairs on the way down. Knocked her head pretty badly.” Nico takes a moment to shiver, like the memory of Nozomi plunging down those ornate marble steps is echoing through time.  Eli can only imagine the rough, fleshy thuds of a woman against stone. Dawning horror. “Maki took her to the hospital, but... what a stroke of bad luck.”

“Is Nozomi alive?” Eli snaps.

“She’s awake, it’s been about four hours,” says Nico, not even offended, just sorry, apology in her voice that spikes fear like knives into Eli’s heartbeat. “The head doctor said she has... well. She’s very polite; a little confused, but certainly accepting when Maki paid her bills. But she didn’t recognize Maki at all.  Her memories of the last two weeks are gone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I chewed so much gum while writing this I memorized all the Truths and Dares from that Cobalt 5 marketing campaign.


	7. Chapter 7

Nozomi is used to colors. 

Gods, she loves colors, the bloody reds and the star-yellows that point to something like contention, the ribbons of electric blue that float through the air that she can _pull_ with just a thought and unspool a roll of future, like unraveling yarn and finding exactly where the hell the thing ends. She’s seen futures like colors her whole life. Comes with the territory, really, an Influence Seer, but she’s learned lately not to tug too hard. 

Another headache. It’s too noisy here in the mall at her same old kiosk across from the lying ward seller who jangles his sketchy necklaces at people who pass by and sometimes leers at Nozomi, as if she’d be interested in some guy with barbecue stains on his shirt who expects the ladies to fall all over some second-rate mage trinkets. 

(She’s Seen that he’ll probably be arrested for shoplifting from Pier One, and if she’d pulled a few poison-green threads into his future, who’s to say it’s not worth losing her keys for a few hours? Luck is a fickle mistress, and Nozomi had been lonely in luck in her whole life, so who cares if she drops some more on something petty?) 

She’s just thinking of closing up early for the day - low profit margin be damned, her head _aches_ (probably all this noise, but there’s also that recent head trauma and stuff - she remembers calling her mom this morning and saying, “Yeah mom, I forgot to send you a birthday present, it was my reterograde amnesia,”) -  when she’s suddenly dazzled by some colors. 

Nozomi has _never_ seen this kind of spiraling rainbow - for a few hot messy seconds she’s forced to stand in a kind of blind daze, wondering if this is what moles feel like when they surface from the ground, this sun-struck explosion of light - and then she blinks past the creamy oranges and clear, sparkling blues and does a little mental trick with her magic that blocks the colors, at least a little bit, so she can get a good look at the woman who approaches. 

Well. The physical appearance of the slightly-nervous looking customer is not much less overwhelming than the colors - she’s lovely, a model-chic; a timeless sort of curiosity in her eyes, the color of falling sky, and a power suit that says she is not coming over to play. 

Rearranging her face into something like a smile (because those colors are something she wants to see for a long time, and also smiling is just good for business) Nozomi waves cheerfully. “Hello! Welcome to-” 

“Hey,” interrupts the customer, and as she comes closer Nozomi has to push more and more colors out of her vision - they’re piling up, strata over strata of gleaming futures all exploding out of this woman’s body, every movement promising something new and incredible. “Do you fake your income reports?” 

How direct - Nozomi is usually the one pushing things, but she has to shove out all these futures (one grabs ahold of her by accident; it’s Nozomi and this woman, sitting on a bench by a park at sunset, they’re close but not touching) and get over the fact that yes, she actually does do a lot of tax evasion, but how.... 

“Because you’ve got _fine_ written all over you.” Nozomi refuses to be caught off guard. She laughs, startled (another strand of color pulls itself into her mind - this woman, holding a fat old cat and pushing it towards Nozomi, who reaches out with a ring on her left hand) by the sheer ridiculousness of it all, and gestures at her fortune-telling memorabilia. 

“Can I help you? This is a fortune-telling stand, for mages and non-mages alike. I see you’re not wearing a pin, but that doesn’t mean your future isn’t in the cards.” Nozomi flashes a deck of cards, splaying them out in her hand like a fan that covers her chin. Not magic, just a trick she’s mastered since she was old enough to play. 

“I heard you got out of the hospital two days ago,” says the woman, and swallows, looking, for the first time, unsure. “I had a lot of stuff to get through, but I’m here now,” she concludes, rather lamely, and takes ahold of her own wrist, shuffling on the spot, applied imperiousness from that power suit no longer applicable. 

Nozomi has to squint. “I’m sorry. Do I know you?” As she says the words, more bizarre threads come from the woman. Nozomi grabs one, just out of habit, and sees... herself. Smiling in an unfamiliar, soft way, like the final piece of a puzzle, like the launch of a rocket, like the spark between the touch of two hands. She doesn’t recognize it because she’s not lonely in this future. 

“I hope so,” says the woman, says Eli, and Nozomi squints a little harder, and she thinks she might be tearing up very slightly, one crystalline drop at the tip of her bright eyes that shine only a fraction brighter than her colors. “I hope you know your future.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.  
> Next up: Medieval fantasy AU.  
> More @ silversheath.tumblr.com


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